Over You
by MissJinny
Summary: An odd Snapecentric piece. One-sided Slash. One shot. A retelling of the potions master's life, through POA, in snippits of pseudo-reality. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the birth of an anti-hero.


_a/n: This is just an...odd piece. However it was nibbling away at me and I couldn't help but write it. Snape-centric, Lupin obsessed. Abstract... I'm not sure what other warnings or notes to give. Odd, absolutely. Enjoy._

_Disclaimers: Not mine, we all know this well enough. The song is 'Weak and Powerless' by A Perfect Circle. It's from their 13th Step album. Very good stuff. If you listen to the song as you read, or read and then listen you'll understand why I had to use it. Or maybe not. (shrug)_

_Desperate and ravenous_

_So weak and powerless…_

_Over you._

He had been pleasantly obsessed with Remus Lupin. Encompassed entirely, overwhelming his sense of self, sense of family, sense of House, and –surprisingly—skill of potions.

The sandy-haired young man with the greying streaks was far too distracting let him work properly. He had to change his work habits when in the classroom. Careful to keep his back to the boy and still be capable of watching his cauldron carefully from the reckless antics of Sirius Black.

Yes, he had been quite content to sit back, deluded by his infatuation and suffer in bitter-sweet agony with his daydreams. The damned soft spoken Lupin had only to smile gently at a group passing and his soul would soften. Remus was a chink in his armor, the veritable David to his Goliath… his own personal kryptonite—and it scared him.

What pitiful amount of friends he had sneered and rolled their eyes, seeing through him as easily as dirty glass. But Slytherin friends are not helpful ones, and it was too late for them to help him even if they wanted when Sirius Black finally noticed too.

He didn't know what it had been for Black—jealousy, anger, revenge—that made the popular Gryffindor finally turn on him. Granted, their entire childhood had been reserved for hate and mutual disgust, but viciously bitten barbs and barely legal hexes had been one thing; attempted murder by werewolf was another entirely.

The daydreams shattered that night to Black's toothy grin, Potter's angry face and Lupin's slavering jowls as the beast that was the beauty tried to tear the flesh from his body.

And then he hated them. Hated all of them with a burning rage that bordered on its own form of passion. The lust of Lupin's flesh became the lust for Lupin's blood. His obsession for the boy's body became the obsession for his skin.

Lucius Malfoy had stood in his doorway, gazing calmly across the dark room and watched him suffer the loss of his dignity, the pain of his rejection, and the horror of his mutilated heart. Then his beautiful friend, who was never an ally, perched beside him smiling in that crooked, secret way and offered him what he needed.

So he went and screamed, cried, vomited and pleaded. He was given love, and loyalty, and devotion. As he lay on the cold, clammy earth breathing in great raw gasps, he smiled for the first time in many months and with shaking fingers he pressed the hem of Tom Riddle's robe hem to his lips with true veneration.

_Hello Angel, go away._

_Come again some other day._

_The devil has my ear today I'll never hear a word you say._

The death of James and Lily Potter came and went, dragging away with them Sirius Black to Azkaban, and Remus Lupin into obscurity.

He had lived, thrived, among the Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort was pleased with his work, showering him in praise and favoritism. Lucius became Malfoy, all others became nothing. Then the Dark Lord's defeat devastated his carefully built world.

Albus Dumbledore became his refuge and with him, the reawakening of his soul and the pain of his misdeeds. He strove for thirteen excruciating years to wean his head and heart from the realm of darkness and death. Over time—and Albus' patience—his soul had won out and he was a dirtied thing of the light, a shadow on the borders, unwelcome to both sides and needed for it just as badly.

So he lived on the line between good and evil—though no one had yet proved to him that such black and whites existed—and young Harry Potter arrived in his glory just as he began to piece himself back together. The innocent boy was identical to his loathsome father and the hate and rage returned, cold and bitter in its age. Though he tried to smother it, it only festered and he grew distant and detached from his time spent in the warmth of the light and to his growing horror he began to crave the lure of the cool depths of the darkness.

His salvation came in the guise of an overly aged and waif thin werewolf. Remus Lupin, back from the depths of his nightmares. This poor, pitiful creature could not have been the demon-spawn that he remembered so vividly. But he clung to his hatred, only knowing its familiarity, it was the only thing that never changed.

The new DADA professor had sat three seats down the table, staring at his hands and then Albus had announced him and the boy turned man had stood and smiled. The same smile that could melt his soul. His heart shivered when he realized that it still did.

Hours turned to days, and days to weeks, and his heart was warm when the wolf was about and felt so cold and lonely when he was away. Merlin, but he could feel the lure again, the promise of the sweet and gentleness of Remus and he feared to touch him to taint him, but hoped he could one day.

So it was, his school boy crush renewed and the lust of a sixteen year old boy is nothing compared to that of a man of forty-something with the hate and ugliness of an ogre.

And he desired, and wanted, and obsessed.

Then it happened that Sirius Black had gone free, and he had not cared all those months until he remembered the truth of the matter. The truth of Lupin and Black and Potter, and his heart stuttered a beat as he thought of it. He denied what was staring him in the face and he did what he thought right for his soul and told Albus out of duty and loyalty and what was a morbid sort of love.

And Albus laughed.

He stood dumbfounded, blood raising in his face and pulse quickening. And a memory like a bolt of lightening or a finely crafted blade struck him deep in the chest and he was forced to hold his tongue and retreat into the dark, cool depths of his dungeons where the heat of his hate was dampened.

But Lupin was so soft and beautiful, and his heart didn't have the fight to ignore it. He grew weak with the need of him, and before everything else he suffered for it. He worked tirelessly on potions for him, taught his classes, and ignored the truth that the greying man did not love him back.

Then it happened, one night in the darkness he knew the feel of danger and knew where his loyalties lay. He tripped about in the twilight, damning Remus for forgetting the potion he had spent hours working on and feeling a pinch of fear for the other as he heard the raised voices.

Sirius Black, escaped murderer, and Lupin had cornered three students. Damnable Potter and his two 'ever-do-good' friends. A spike of truth and anger and hate split his heart apart and he vowed he would kill the dog where he stood.

But things grew black and when he woke again it was too late. The murderer was loose, the children were in danger, and the wolf had come out to play.

So it came to pass that those things that haunted his memories came true again. Lupin feasting for his flesh, Black grinning mad and Potter gaping horrified. Albus would come to their defense and the truth be damned.

So he lay on his side in the darkness, trembling with barely restrained rage while Lucius Malfoy looked on. The beautiful youth had grown to a terribly beautiful man and he sat perched on the edge of the bed and smiled that crooked, secret smile. He felt his spine wash in ice and his stomach roil. He was a good boy now, snuggled as he was beneath Albus' wing.

So he went and screamed, cried, vomited and pleaded. Lord Voldemort reborn was barely a skeleton wrapped in mummy's skin but his burning red eyes and cold touch to his skin was like a salve to his ragged and raw heart.

Albus plotted and schemed, sent Black away free and clean if not in secret. Lupin went with him, known for the beast he was but with Albus' love and affection. And he lay at Voldemort's feet staring blurrily at the splintered floorboards as the evil creature pet his lank hair.

_He promised I would find a little solace_

_And some peace of mind._

_Whatever just as long as I don't feel so_

_Desperate and ravenous;_

_So weak and powerless_

…_over you._


End file.
